


Love is On the Way

by TheNerveToServe



Category: The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Advent, Christian Themes, Christmas Story, Discussion of religious themes found within, Face/Amy if you squint and read between the lines in Chapter 5, Found Family, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roman Catholic themes, Team as Family, judeo-christian themes, mentions of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNerveToServe/pseuds/TheNerveToServe
Summary: Though Face is far from a model Catholic, Advent is a special time of the year for him. Traditions were never meant to be celebrated alone, however. Especially not the ones surrounding Christmas.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	1. The Prophet's Candle

**Author's Note:**

> As a rosary-carrying Roman Catholic, I have a lot of feelings and love for Face and his complicated relationship with the church. I also adore Advent, it's one of my favorite times of the year. Therefore, this idea was born. Rough format--Evey week adds a new candle and another member of the Team. Five chapters because there will be a Christmas chapter too! 
> 
> As with most traditions that have a large family/personal element to them, everyone celebrates Advent a little bit differently. Face's traditions actually do not resemble the ones that my family personally follow. I went with some prayers and approaches that would better reflect a grown man living (mostly) on his own without a family or children to share the traditions with. 
> 
> The title is drawn from the 1928 hymn "People Look East" by Eleanor Farjeon. "RSV" means I am drawing my Bible verses from the "Revised Standard Version" translation of the Bible.

_Turn to me, and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted. Relieve the troubles of my heart, and bring me out of my distresses. Consider my affliction and my troubles, and forgive all my sins._ Psalm 25: 16-18 (RSV Translation)

The living room was almost dark except for the gleam coming through the large glass window. Los Angeles spilled out around and below the apartment like a multi-colored dreamscape, illuminated by millions of lights in every hue until its glow blotted out the rest of the night sky. The City of the Angel…one could only truly appreciate that nickname when viewing the city at night from a high point. 

Templeton ‘Face Man’ Peck was not interested in the view right now, however. Carefully setting the four candles in his hands down on the windowsill, he adjusted the purple satin ribbon tying them together. The tempered glass candle-holders, decorated with lightly etched stars, held three purple candles and one pink candle. They were brand new, ready for the four-week season ahead of them. Smiling faintly, Face finally glanced out the window and then shifted his eyes upward toward the darkened ceiling as if searching for something…permission perhaps. 

Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his lighter, usually used for igniting cigars or explosives. Studying it for a minute, he glanced upwards again. “Sorry God….I remembered to buy the right color candles this year but I forgot to buy a box of matches.” 

A little part of him, the part that sounded like Fathers Magill and O’Malley, whispered that Jesus probably would not mind. If He ate dinner with tax collectors and sinners, He would not object to Face lighting an Advent wreath with the only implement he had on hand. 

Flicking the lighter with his thumb, a flame obediently sprang up and he held it against the fresh wick of a purple candle. The treated cord took after a moment, the flame shooting up and throwing distorted shadows over Face’s shoulder into the darkness that covered the rest of the apartment. 

As the flame settled down and took the shadows with it, Face’s smile softened with a touch of nostalgia. In the back of his mind, he could hear Father Magill talking as he lit the wreath in the orphanage’s chapel on the first Sunday of Advent, after the children all trooped back from mass at St. Mary’s. 

_“M’children, what do candles do?” The priest addressed the children his orphanage housed and clothed as he extinguished the match and settled down on the alter steps. The older children sat in the pews, already knowing all the answers to the priest’s questions. Some of them still listened raptly, adoring this yearly tradition, while others leaned back in the pews and fiddled with their fingers as they studied the cobwebs in the rafters. The little ones gathered on the floor, scattered attentions temporarily focused on the priest._

_One little boy, only in the orphanage a few weeks and far too skinny after several months of trying to survive on the streets, cautiously put his hand in the air when none of the other children answered Magill’s question._

_“Alvin?” Magill smiled encouragingly at the child._

_Alvin (years before he changed his name a half-a-dozen times and earned his preferred moniker of ‘Face’) dropped his hand back in his lap and fidgeted with a threadbare corner of his hand-me-down shirt. “Catch stuff on fire?” He suggested softly, blushing when a few of the other kids laughed. It was not cruel laughter though—they were all young enough that fire was still an exciting taboo that only adults handled._

_Magill nodded, a slight frown touching his features in contrast to the amusement of the children. Alvin was a mystery—he had a name that did not seem to exist anywhere and no one appeared to be missing the child or trying to find him. He had just wandered into the chapel one day in early November, seeking shelter from the rain, and they kept him. Whenever Alvin came up with odd statements like that, Magill wondered anew what had driven such a tiny child onto the streets in the first place._

_When the giggles died down, he spoke again. “You’re close, Alvin. Candles can catch things on fire—that’s why we don’t leave them alone when they’re lit. But, more importantly, fire creates **light**. The candles in the wreath symbolize that Jesus’s birth is approaching and He is the Light of the World. We’re just four weeks away now. Every week we add another candle because Jesus is closer and the world is growing brighter as a result.” _

_“One candle isn’t much!” One little girl protested, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them._

_“Sometimes one candle is all you need, Lucy.” Magill stated gently. “Look at the flame and how it lights up the area around it. Of course, we could see better if I lit all the candles—“_

_“Or turned the lights on.” One of the older boys muttered from a back pew, “It’s almost 1956 for Ch—sorry Father.” He sank down in his pew when he realized how close he had come to blaspheming in the chapel **and** in front of the priest. _

_Magill smiled though, accepting the boy’s apology. “If I turned on the lights, Lucas, would this lesson make as much sense to the little ones? You’ve heard this all before. Many of our new arrivals haven’t.” He explained patiently._

_“Sorry Father.” Lucas murmured again and sat up straight in his seat._

_Magill continued, “Like I was saying. If I lit all the candles, we **would** be able to see better. That is true. Still, even with one candle lit, look at how much light it casts around the altar. See how it drives back the shadows.” He waited for the children to look and slowly nod as they realized what he meant. Then he added, “Now think about how dark it would be if I blew that candle out and there was no light in here at all.” _

_After allowing the children several minutes to absorb that thought, and when the littlest ones started squirming and looking around the chapel, he spoke again. “That is why this candle is called the Prophet’s Candle and it symbolizes hope. As Christ’s birth draws closer, hope is returning to the world. It is the same hope that the prophets in the Old Testament waited in as they spoke to the people of Israel about the Messiah coming to save his people…”_

A helicopter passing over the city roughly jerked Face out of his memories. For a terrifying moment his mind hovered somewhere between the quiet chapel, the jungles of Vietnam and the comfortable apartment he was currently staying in. Then he settled abruptly back into his apartment, blinked hard and re-focused on the candle flickering cheerfully on his windowsill. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed and rubbed a hand down his face. 

He crossed himself, the movement a touch hesitant, and folded his hands. Then he faltered. Did…did he really have a right to say these prayers? He was not exactly the ideal model of a Catholic after all…

Again the little voice, this one sounding more like Father O’Malley then Father Magill, reminded him that most of the early disciples and saints were not exactly Model Poster Children either. Sincere effort counted for something too….and he truly **was** acting in sincerity here. 

Studying the candle again, Face sighed. If God decided He was going to take an affront to Face’s prayers, He might just send down a bolt of lightning… After a moment of careful reflection, Face decided he would rather risk the lightning **now** than reach the end of his life and have to explain why he never even **tried** to return to his prayers. Face was not exactly sure what would happen on the Other Side but he could only imagine trying to justify his actions while God looked at him with the same patiently disappointed look Father Magill used to get sometimes. The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a familiar knot knitted together out of guilt, embarrassment, and an acute misery that only eased when he simply begged for forgiveness instead of trying to justify himself. 

It was worth the effort anyways…. 

Folding his hands, Face leaned his elbows on the edge of the sill and quietly recited the prayer he had learned by heart from hearing the priests pray it so many times. “Let us pray. Stir up Thy might, we beg Thee, O Lord, and come, so that we may escape through Thy protection and be saved by Thy help from the dangers that threaten us because of our sins. Who livest and reignest forever and ever. Amen.”

As his ‘Amen’ faded, Face stiffened. He waited for a moment, half-expecting some kind of smiting blow to rain down on him for the audacity displayed in thinking that **he** , a thieving, womanizing, con artist, might be allowed to say such prayers. The room stayed still, the candle twinkling against the window glass and casting small reflections of light over the windowsill and the other glass candleholders. Nothing else moved for several long minutes. 

Finally, he relaxed and straightened just to drop down on the near-by sofa arm, eyes fixing on the pinprick of flame dancing against the gleaming display stretching out behind and below it. The candle’s warm, yellow-orange glow held its own against the harsh white-blue artificial city lights and, in Face’s mind, gradually overpowered them. Slowly, a soft sensation akin to hope settled over Face like a warm blanket and gently eased the knot twisting in his stomach until it almost vanished. Maybe there would be no cosmic punishment for attempting to stumble his way back home, after all. 

Maybe one candle really **would** be enough.


	2. The Bethlehem Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Face is far from a model Catholic, Advent is a special time of the year for him. Traditions were never meant to be celebrated alone, however. Especially not the ones surrounding Christmas. 
> 
> When Murdock crashes at Face's apartment following a job, a second candle is lit and faith provides a salve for old wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murdock joins Face this week. This chapter very lightly touches on PTSD themes so please bear that in mind if that is a sensitive topic for you. 
> 
> As more people join the story, the chapters will get longer! All information regarding Murdock's family, I am preemptively crediting to my friend LibertyKingdom because I am losing track of where her headcanons for Murdock end and mine begin. If they're really good ones, they're from her! 
> 
> Also, as far as I can gather, Catholics are best known for using Advent wreaths and attach the most significance to them but it seems to be a general Christian practice as well, with an equally wide variety of traditions attached to it.

_He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more._ Isaiah 2:4 (RSV Translation)

Captain H.M. Murdock nudged the front door of the apartment open with his foot, managing to balance a pizza box in one hand and a two-liter of soda in the crook of his other arm. “Thanks for lettin’ me crash at your place, Facey!” He glanced over his shoulder as Face came up behind him. 

Reaching above Murdock’s head to push the door open wider, Face replied. “Well I got you out of the VA on a three-day pass for your nephew’s birthday trip. We only needed a day-and-a-half for the job and you’re not due back until Tuesday morning. If we come back now, the nurses might ask questions I don’t have answers for.” 

“My nephew, huh?” Murdock flicked the living room lights on with his elbow. Examining the unfamiliar room quickly, he crossed it and set the pizza down on the coffee table. “Which one is it? Do I like him?” 

“It’s Charlie and he’s your favorite. Wants to be a pilot, just like you.” Face closed the door behind him and pulled his overcoat off. A cold snap had buried LA in chilly rain and fog for the last three days. Face easily imagined kids all over the city wondering if it would get cold enough to turn the rain into snow for Christmas but he doubted it. The last time he had seen snow in the city, he had just turned twelve and it barely lasted a few hours. 

“Nice!” Murdock cheered his non-existent nephew’s career ambitions and placed the soda next to the pizza box. “How many nephews do I have now anyways?” 

“Um...” Dropping his coat on the rack, Face mentally consulted the chart he made and regularly updated regarding Murdock’s extensive and fictitious family tree. “Four nephews now and one niece. I’m going to have to start manufacturing mail from them at the rate we’re going.” 

“Naw,” Murdock shrugged his shoulders and opened the pizza box. “Even when I do get mail, half the time the nurses forget to give it to me. I get all the important stuff routed to that PO Box you keep for us.” 

Face winced as Murdock shrugged off how the VA hospital often forgot about or overlooked him. Already knowing that Murdock would not want to talk about the hospital, he just changed the topic to the nearest one on hand. “Hey! No pizza until I bring plates and cups from the kitchen. You have to use a napkin too. I don’t want grease on the couch—it’s not mine, you know!” 

“Fiiiiiine.” Murdock whined and flopped back on the plush cushions. “But when you get your own couch, can we get grease on it?” 

Face snorted lightly as he headed into the kitchen. Raising his voice so the pilot would still be able to hear him, he started collecting everything needed for their dinner. “ **If** we ever get our pardons and I get a place that’s **really** my own, I’ll consider it. Sound fair?” 

Murdock made no response and Face frowned. “Does that sound fair, Murdock?” He repeated, anxiety touching his tone when the living room remained silent. 

Murdock could be like a kid—sometimes silence just meant he was thinking or had dozed off. Other times it meant he was getting into things he should be leaving alone. Grabbing a handful of napkins, Face dropped them on top of the dishes in his hands and hastily returned to the living room. 

Murdock stood at the end of the sofa, keenly studying Face’s makeshift Advent wreath on the windowsill. The single purple candle showed some signs of burning—Face had not been able to light it every night of the week, what with the Fresno job coming up suddenly and the prep work required for it, but he had done his best. He planned to light the second candle after Murdock fell asleep. While Murdock had mentioned he was a Christian and the pair talked about religion on occasion, Face never made a point of displaying his own Catholic origins too openly. He did not want to invite questions which might reveal how complicated and confused his relationship with religion had become. 

Murdock though, circumvented Face’s whole plan with one cheerful announcement. 

“I didn’t know you had an Advent wreath!” He spun around when Face came up behind him. “It’s Sunday! We should light it ‘fore we eat!” 

Caught off-guard by his friend’s words, Face found himself unexpectedly nodding as he reached into his suit coat pocket for the lighter (he still needed to buy that box of matches but acquiring an exterminator truck, three gas masks, and a fire hose for Hannibal’s plan had taken precedence). “Do you want to light it?” 

Murdock paused and shifted his weight, “ **Can** I?” Caution tempered his eager tone. “I mean…my Dad sent me and my brother to Catholic school a few times at different posts but **we** weren’t Catholic. He just didn’t like the other school options he had for us so he got permission to send us there instead.” 

Face shrugged his shoulders and tossed the lighter toward his friend. “I don’t see why not. I’m not exactly a model Catholic myself.” He smiled ruefully, remembering the train of thought that tormented him last week while he lit the first candle. 

Catching the lighter, Murdock nodded. “But you gotta say the prayers Faceman. I don’t remember any’a the good ones!” 

“We can use the one Father O’Malley taught me.” 

Turning back toward the wreath and rubbing his thumb over the lighter wheel without flicking it, Murdock studied the situation. “So it’s the one you already lit and one of the other purple ones, right?” He looked toward his friend for clarification. 

“Yes.” Face confirmed and then added, “You light them and I’ll say the prayer.” 

“Do you read a Bible verse or anything? My grandpa used to do that.” Murdock rubbed at the side of his head, fighting off the strained sensation that seemed to come up whenever he tried too hard to remember things. 

“No, I don’t. I mean….I’ve got a Bible here somewhere if you want to read a verse or two but I don’t usually do that.” 

“It’s okay,” Murdock ran his thumb over the wheel again. He looked at the wreath again, blinking as his mind wandered down a rabbit hole that just opened up. Then he added softly, “I always liked that one in Isaiah about how someday God’ll judge the nations and make peace. Then we’ll all beat our swords and spears into farming tools and we’ll never have war again.” 

To never have war again—that was the prayer that many soldiers whispered in their deepest hearts. Face swallowed hard, eyes shifting toward the glimmering display out of his window. Somehow, after three years in Vietnam, he could not **quite** imagine a world where Hueys transported farmers instead of soldiers and M16s were tossed out in favor of spades and shovels. It was a **nice** mental image but one he did not see coming to pass. 

Murdock sighed wistfully, unwilling to vocalize the ideas bouncing around his mind. Then he brightened, apparently shelving the train of thought trying to take him away, pulled his baseball cap off and tucked it under his arm, “Come on Facey—let’s do this before the pizza gets cold!” 

Remembering the pizza sitting behind them served as a welcome grounding agent, the combined scent of dough, cheese, pepperoni and mushrooms enough to tempt even Face’s lackluster appetite. Murdock expertly flicked the lighter and held the flame against the blackened wick of the first candle. When it took, he selected the purple candle sitting next to the first one. Once both flames twinkled cheerfully, illuminating the stars etched in the glass, Murdock placed the light next to the wreath and mirrored Face when the con artist made the Sign of the Cross and folded his hands together.

Face took a second to recall the right words before he spoke. “Let us pray. O Lord, stir up our hearts that we may prepare for Thy only begotten Son, that through His coming we may be made worthy to serve Thee with pure souls. Through the same Christ our Lord, Amen.” 

“Amen.” Murdock dutifully echoed the word and made the Sign of the Cross again when Face did. Then he tilted his head quizzically, studying the two candles on the sill as he set his hat back over his hair. 

“We can let them burn while we eat.” Face offered. After the morning they had had, and several hours’ worth of drive back from Fresno, both of their stomachs were grumbling considerably. Flopping down on the sofa again, Murdock grabbed the soda, opened it, and filled the two glasses. Face took the seat next to him and started shifting pizza from the box to the plates. 

“Do you think we’ll ever get there, Faceman?” Murdock asked abruptly, holding one fizzing glass out to Face. 

Face accepted the glass in exchange for a plate with several slices of pizza on it. “Get where, Murdock?” He asked, unsure if Murdock’s mind had reverted to its mention of Isaiah or if the pilot was vocalizing the last question in a mental discussion Face had not been made privy too. 

“All that stuff about beating swords into plowshares and never having war again.” Murdock scooped up a slice of pizza, took a generous bite and kept talking with his mouth full. “There’s other verses in Isaiah about how all the boots that tramped in battle and the cloaks rolled in blood will be burned in fire. It’d be a nice thought except I’m not letting anybody burn my jacket.”

Face paused before his food reached his mouth, smiled and then quoted, “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called ‘Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace’.” 

“What was that?” Murdock took another bite. Then his face brightened as his tattered memory filled in the gap for him, “Oh right! That’s the part that comes after the bit about burning all the boots and cloaks.” 

“It’s also part of Handel’s _Messiah_.” Face took a bite. Swallowing, he added, “There’s a whole section there where the chorus just sings that verse.”

“How do you know?” 

“I’ve been to see Handel’s _Messiah_.” Face stated. Taking another bite, he chewed thoughtfully before volunteering more information. “The second Christmas we knew her, Amy wound up with an extra ticket for one of the performances and she asked me if I wanted to go with her. She figured I was the only one who would appreciate it properly.” 

Murdock nodded sagely though a happy gleam flitted through his eyes, “And of course you bought her a late dinner afterwards, as a ‘thank you’.” He finished his first slice of pizza and washed it down with a long sip of soda. Almost wiping his hands on his pants, he noted the glance from Face and leaned over to grab a napkin. 

“Well I try to be a gentleman when I can.” Face wiped his fingers on a napkin and finished the rest of his slice. 

Murdock was partway through his second piece when he spoke again, “You never answered my question, buddy. You deflected onto Handel and Amy instead.” 

Face sighed. He had hoped he would be able to distract Murdock until his friend forgot the question but it seemed to be weighing on Murdock’s mind. That meant he would not let it go. The problem was that Face did not have an answer prepared for his friend. 

Finishing his slice and settling his plate on his knee, Face frowned when he ran out of ways to buy time. Murdock watched him expectantly, slowly chewing on his mouthful. 

Giving up on finding the **right** answer, Face just spoke, “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll get there someday….” He sounded unconvinced of his own words but kept going. “The Bible says we will anyways but it’ll probably be quite a while yet.” 

“Hmph….” Murdock made the sound in his throat, halfway between agreeing and disappointed. Then he swallowed, sighed, and his eyes shifted toward the ceiling. “Sure would be nice if it came **soon** though. I don’t want anybody else seeing what we saw in Nam.” 

“I know.” Face slowly crumpled the napkin into his fist, his knuckles going white with the pressure he was exerting. “If I **ever** have a family, I don’t want to think about my kids going to war.” He confessed softly. 

Murdock’s eyes, and then his whole body, shifted toward the candles again. He pulled his baseball cap up, raked a hand through his hair, reset the cap and ran a finger down the bridge of his nose. Then he spoke “I guess that’s what faith is about, Face.” 

“How’s that?” Face paused in pulling another slice of pizza from the box and lifted his head to study Murdock intensely. 

“Faith.” Murdock rubbed his nose again and reclaimed his drink. “We have to keep going, believing it’s going to get better…that everything’s going to turn out okay in the end.” He stared down into the fizzing drink, eyes following the carbonation bubbles as they rose toward the top of the liquid. “Sometimes that’s all we’ve got going for us.” 

Somehow, the way Murdock pronounced ‘we’ and ‘us’ gave Face a clear image that the pilot truly meant ‘I’ and ‘me’. It was just that putting himself first rarely played a role in the pilot’s nature. Placing his plate on the table, Face turned fully toward his best friend. 

Blue eyes darkened with concern as he watched the way Murdock’s attention flicked back and forth between the carbonation bubbles and the candles. Then he cleared his throat to give Murdock some warning and dropped his arm around Murdock’s shoulder. “Did you know the candle you lit tonight means something?” 

“Yeah.” Murdock shifted his attention back to Face. “It means it’s Week Two of Advent.” 

“Not just that.” Face grinned, “Catholics love symbolism… **everything** means **something**.” He pointed to the wreath with his free hand. “Now that first candle you lit, the one I started last week, that one symbolizes ‘hope’. Hope in waiting for Jesus’s birth and for His return. The candle you lit tonight, that one stands for ‘faith’. Faith in Jesus’s birth and for His return, when He’s going to set everything right.” 

“Does the purple mean anything?” Murdock’s curiosity was fully piqued. 

“Of course it does! Catholics **really** love attaching meaning to colors. Purple is for repentance, fasting, and for preparation. That’s why it’s used at Advent and Lent.” 

“Purple used to be the color for kings and royalty too. That’s because the dye had to be made from sea snails and it was really expensive.” Murdock added the trivia off-handedly. Then he snapped his fingers, “Wait! Purple’s for royalty and Jesus is the Prince of Peace! Is that part of the symbolism too?” 

“Of course,” Face started to smile, relieved to see Murdock’s serious mood lifting as his brain latched onto the new information. “Purple’s a favorite color in the Church—that’s why they pull it out for the important feast periods. White is for the **really** important high holy days like Christmas and Easter.” 

“I always wondered about that in school, why everything seemed to be color coded.” Murdock grinned, “Guess I should have asked back then…or maybe I did and I don’t remember…” He rubbed at the side of his head again. 

Seeming to sense that Murdock was developing a headache, Face clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on—I think we’ve had enough heavy discussions for one work day. Want to see if there’s anything good on the TV? It’s the middle of December—somebody has to be playing an old black and white holiday movie.” 

Grabbing the remote, Face turned the television on. Flipping through the channels until he found something that resembled “A Christmas Carol”, he glanced at Murdock out of the corner of his eye. “You going to be okay, Murdock?” 

“Yeah,” Murdock looked at his friend quickly and flashed a big grin. It did not quite cover up the shadows in his eyes but it went a long way toward lifting them. “Of course I’ll be okay muchacho. It’s almost Christmas, after all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story notes:
> 
> Aside from a brief snowstorm in 2019, the last time LA saw snow was January 1962 but it melted quickly. The last measurable snowfall the city had was in January 1949. 
> 
> The second set of verses in Isaiah that Murdock and Face discuss: For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace". -Isaiah 9:5-6 (RSV Translation). 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for Chapter 3, when Hannibal joins the party!


	3. The Shepherd's Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Murdock unexpectedly drop by Face's apartment, livening up what should have been a quiet night and bringing a personal meaning to "Gaudete".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me every step of the way--I'm not sure if its because Hannibal is a tricky muse for me to capture or what, but we have MADE it. That's what counts!
> 
> Shout-out to LibertyKingdom who let me bounce ideas off her regarding Hannibal and his religious inclinations. 
> 
> I should have stated this earlier. Nothing belongs to me--I'm only playing in a corner of a rather old sandbox that belongs to Stephen J. Cannell and Frank Lupo.

_Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let all men know your forbearance. The Lord is at hand._ Philippians 4: 4-5 (RSV Translation) 

Setting the box of matches beside the Advent wreath with an air of triumph, Face touched the lit one in his hand against the fresh wick of the rose-colored candle. The wick took easily and he quickly moved to re-light the other two. As he worked, the flame nibbled its way up the wooden stick, reaching dangerously close to his fingers as the third candle ignited. Dropping the stub into his ashtray, Face waved his singed finger in the air while the flame ate up on the last bit of stick, flared, and faded away. Examining his slight injury in the candlelight, Face decided it needed no medical care. 

More important things required his attention right now anyways. Gingerly, he knelt down by the wreath, his elbows resting on the windowsill. These days, even when he did pray he rarely knelt any longer—Vietnam and over a decade of mercenary work had damaged his right knee to the point that any period of extended pressure brought about protests. Kneeling just felt **right** this time though. Besides, he would only be on the ground for a minute. 

Crossing himself, he rested his forehead on his folded hands and softly whispered the prayer for the new week. “Let us pray. We humbly beg Thee, O Lord, to listen to our prayers; and by the grace of Thy coming bring light into our darkened minds. Who livest and reignest for ever and ever. Amen.” 

The ‘Amen’ faded but Face stayed where he was, soaking up the silence of the apartment. His life was rarely quiet, often by his own choosing but also due to the demands of missions, so this was a rare luxury. A moment later though, he huffed out an irritated breath. The problem with **quiet** was that it gave him far too much room to **think**. Before he could decide how to deal with that issue, the doorbell rang. A series of knocks followed this announcement, and he glanced across the room. 

No one was due to come over tonight. He had no dates arranged, Murdock had returned to the VA last Tuesday, Hannibal was trying to get a part in a new monster movie that started shooting in January ( _The Return of El Chupacabra_ ), Amy was still out of the country, and BA was working double time at the community center. Christmas was a time of love, peace, joy, and, unfortunately, a lot of kids needing a safe place to shelter while parents worked extra hours or family members met up for the annual bickering matches. 

Another series of knocks rattled the door. Face could have sworn that the jaunty style of the taps meant some kind of energetic Morse code message. Only Murdock would think to knock like that…

Pulling himself upright with a grimace, Face shook his leg slightly and crossed the room. Peeking through the hole in the door to catch a glimpse of his visitors, he rose both eyebrows when Murdock’s baseball cap, and then his eye, filled up most of the peephole. Unlocking the door, he pulled it open quickly enough that the pilot almost fell through the entryway. “Murdock, what’re you doing here? How’d you get out of the VA?”

Murdock caught his balance and beamed, cradling a small, wrapped box in his hands. “Hey Facey! We came by to drop off your Advent present!” 

“We? Advent present?” Face repeated, confused, and shifted his attention to the man standing next to the Captain. “Hannibal, what is he talking about?” 

Colonel John ‘Hannibal’ Smith shrugged his shoulders indifferently, his canvas coat crinkling with the movement, “It’s a present that Murdock insisted on dropping off with you.” He paused and looked over Face’s shoulder. Noting the candlelight in the darkened living room, though he could not see its source, he looked back at his Lieutenant. “You got company over?” 

“No.” Face had mentally sped through the five stages of grief for his quiet evening as soon as he looked through the peephole. Resignation was already setting in when he gave Hannibal his short answer. If Hannibal picked Murdock up from the VA, that obviously meant they had a new job. “Even if I did, you two are here and Murdock’s out of the hospital. That means you want me to ship out on a new case don’t you?” 

“Not this time,” Hannibal promised as Murdock, impatient with standing in the hall, slipped around Face into the apartment. Face stepped aside so that Hannibal could come in as well and shut the door behind them. 

Hannibal’s eyes roved around the room, spotting the Advent wreath as the source of the light but made no comment on it. Instead, he explained Murdock’s presence. “Apparently there was some kind of…accident at the hospital…” He trailed off, seemingly uncertain about the nature of this ‘accident’, and looked toward Murdock. “How’d you explain it again, Murdock?”

“Oooh…” Murdock rolled his eyes and Face got the distinct impression that the forthcoming story would be unusual and, for once, not fed by the Captain’s over-active imagination. “They were supposed to be fixing the sprinkler system for the lawn. They figured December’s a good time—what with it being rainy lately, the sprinklers aren’t being used much anyways. Don’t know what went wrong, but I think they must’a hit some water lines in the basement or backed up the drains or something…” he shrugged, “Anyways the whole ground floor of the psych hospital and all our rooms got flooded during the lunchtime medication rounds. Billy had to spend most of the afternoon on the bed where he'd be dry because I didn't want to add 'wet dog' to the rest of the smells coming in with the water. The nurses had to get everybody new rooms and the VA can’t even start fixing the water damage until after Christmas. You should have seen the orderlies though! They were scrambling around like chickens at feeding time!”

Face nodded along with the story, confusion knitting his brows together. “So if your room got flooded and they gave you a new one, why’d Hannibal have to pick you up?” He paused and then grinned, “They run out of rooms and didn’t have a stable to offer you and Billy?” 

Murdock’s eyes widened and he fumbled with the box in his hands. Then he recovered himself, “Nope! They didn’t have a lot of extra rooms to start with so I talked them into letting me call my 'uncle' and spend Christmas with my family. I still have to report in for my sessions a couple of times a week but they said if I did okay with those, I could stay out until my room’s fixed!” 

Hannibal headed across the room and collected the ashtray sitting next to the wreath. Tapping the ash off his cigar, he leaned against the windowsill and glanced at the lit candles. This look was brief and only meant to ensure he was far enough away from the fire. Satisfied that his coat was safe, he gestured toward Murdock, “You better be careful, Captain. If they’re letting you out to stay with family for a few weeks and just asking that you check in for your sessions, they might be thinking about releasing you for real this time.” 

“You’re thinking this is a trial run of some kind?” Face folded his hands in front of himself as he turned toward Hannibal. To a certain degree, Murdock being at the VA was a safety feature…if he was there; it was difficult to connect him to the A-Team officially. Decker might be getting an inkling but he lacked the proof required to make any moves. If they released Murdock though…

A shrug of Hannibal’s shoulders gave Face the only answer he would receive. Before his mind could start chasing too many possible outcomes, Murdock shoved the package into his hands. “Don’t go worryin’ about the hospital, Face Man. You gotta open up your present!” 

“It’s not Christmas yet. And my birthday was a couple of weeks ago.” Face moved to settle on the arm of the sofa and Murdock threw himself down lengthwise on the cushions. 

“I know.” Murdock propped his chin in his hands. “That’s why it’s an Advent gift. ‘Cause it’s still Advent.” 

“Murdock’s got a point.” Hannibal finished his cigar and dropped the stub into the ashtray. “Besides, he kicked up so much fuss about dropping it off that I’m getting curious now.” Something in Hannibal’s deliberately neutral expression made Face pause. The Colonel was playing dumb a bit too openly to be wholly clueless about the box. Then Face dismissed his instinct as a trick of the candlelight. 

Accepting that his friends would stare at him until he unwrapped it, Face slid his fingers under the tape and popped it loose. Rotating the box in his hands, he carefully undid each end, working slowly to avoid damaging the paper. Behind him, Murdock huffed in annoyance. “Come on Face, can’t you just rip the paper off like everybody else?” 

“It’s nice paper. Why rip it up?” Face commented as he pulled the small box loose, folded the gift-wrap and placed it beside him. He could almost feel Murdock rolling his eyes and deliberately slowed his movements just to annoy the pilot. Hannibal grinned, watching the antics of two of his boys. 

All thoughts of good-naturedly exasperating Murdock fled from Face’s mind as soon as he opened the box. Gently lifting the small Nativity out, he blinked and held it up so that he could study it. “It’s beautiful.” He stated after a moment, touched by the thoughtful gift. 

“Yeah!” Murdock pulled himself onto his knees and rested his chin on Face’s shoulder. Then he shot a quick look at Hannibal before adding, “Hannibal helped me pick it out.” 

Face’s eyes widened and his attention shifted to Hannibal, his mouth dropping open slightly. Then he closed it again with the realization that his instincts **had** been right. Hannibal laughed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Murdock probably would have bought five of them if I let him into the store alone.” The Colonel paused, allowing for the change of subject, and then continued, “Murdock told me you were trying to get back to your roots and he wanted to help.” 

“And this one’s made out of wood and it’s all one piece so you can’t lose any of the figures!” Murdock pointed out. 

“It’s small enough that we figured you could just put it back in the box after Christmas and stash it in that locker Father O’Malley keeps for you.” Hannibal was sure that was already Face’s plan—many things that the Lieutenant feared losing ended up there, alongside some items that his friends considered important. 

Face ran his fingers over the stable’s roof before studying the three figures huddled under it. The faces were tiny and their expressions more so, created by tiny flicks of the wrist. Still, even without the main lights, he could make out the love on Mary and Joseph’s faces as they gazed at the tiny baby. Unlike many others he had seen, in this Nativity the Holy Infant slept, wrapped in swaddling linens as indicated by faint lines around Him. A small star attached to the peak of the stable was ready to guide the shepherds to the spot when the time came. For the moment though, all was quiet for the little family—it was not quite time to break up their moment of peace. 

Watching the man who was nearly his son study the gift so intensely, Hannibal grinned at Murdock and the pilot returned the expression. The two of them must have picked out a good one. 

Face pulled himself back to reality after a moment. Shrugging his shoulder until Murdock lifted his chin; he stood up to find the Nativity a temporary home. “I didn’t even know you were religious, Hannibal.” He headed for the window and Hannibal shifted to the side. 

“Did I ever **say** I wasn’t? Just because I don’t talk about things like that doesn’t mean I don’t practice them. You of all people should know about keeping some cards close to your chest, Face.”

Hannibal let his statement sink in as he pulled his cigar out of his mouth and tapped the barely-accumulated ash off the end. Then, perhaps motivated by a touch of holiday generosity, he continued. “My mother was the religious one—always trooped us boys off to church every Sunday and made sure we said our prayers at night. She did okay with most of us.” He stuck his cigar back between his teeth with a signature smirk that left no doubt which son she had not done ‘okay’ with. 

“Where’d you go wrong, Colonel?” Face did not look at Hannibal as he spoke, instead setting the Nativity down next to the wreath. One never **looked** at the Colonel while they were trying to wiggle personal information out. Even after all these years together, many aspects of Hannibal’s life were still a mystery to his younger men and Face never missed an opportunity to glean more information. 

Seeming to sense his Lieutenant’s intent, Hannibal shrugged in an over-exaggerated fashion. “What can I say boys? I’m the only hell my mama ever raised.” 

“Heeeeey…Referencing outlaw country singers doesn’t count as an answer, Hannibal!” Murdock groused from the couch. 

“I think that’s Hannibal’s way of saying his mother is none of our business.” Face pointed out, tweaking the Nativity until he was satisfied with its placement “And that it might be time for a subject change too.” 

Murdock cast his eyes around the room quickly, looking for ideas. Then he nodded toward the wreath. “Last week you said all the colors have meanings but you never got around to telling me why there’s one pink candle sitting there with all the purple ones.” 

The topic change was a good choice. Face and Hannibal both turned their attention to the display. 

“The Third Sunday of Advent is _Gaudete_ Sunday—Latin for ‘Rejoice’.” Face held his hand over the top of the lit candles, just close enough that he could feel the heat tickling his palm. When the slight burn on his finger flared up, he pulled his hand back and slid it into his pants pocket. “We’re getting closer to Jesus’s Birth so the Church takes a break from the solemn preparations and celebrates the fact that the waiting is almost over.”

“I was told it has something to do with the shepherds, too.” Hannibal pointed out, carefully phrasing his words as a statement rather than a question. His quick glance toward Face indicated that he would not mind getting some more information, however, if his Lieutenant had any to share. 

“Well….” Face rubbed at his chin with his other hand, “Father Magill used to call the pink candle the Shepherd’s Candle. He said it was because, aside from Mary, Joseph, and Mary’s cousin, the shepherds were the first ones to receive news of the Messiah.”

Hannibal nodded and then added, “Even when I was a kid, I always liked how the angels went to the guys working out in their fields first and told them the news before anybody else knew what was going on.” 

“That’s one of the re-occurring themes in the gospels.” Murdock perked up and they could both tell he was flirting with one of his mostly-lucid but very informative phases. “I mean…think about it….rich people sought Jesus out sometimes but a lot of them didn’t like to listen. They were too distracted by the world and worldly pursuits.” Involuntarily Murdock’s eyes shifted toward Face and then he plunged ahead with his explanation before Face could straighten his tie, shift his weight or give some other subtle clue that the verbal shot accidentally hit home. 

“Instead, Jesus went to working people—fishermen and tax collectors and women taking care of their houses…people like that. He talked to the ones everyone else said should be forgotten ‘bout…the little kids, the cripples, the lepers, the blind….the ones the crowd said were crazy or sick…” He trailed off and folded his arms around himself in a one-person hug before finishing his thoughts in a subdued tone, “So I guess it’s only right that shepherds were the first ones to know that He showed up. They were outcasts too, you know.” 

Hannibal and Face exchanged quick glances, silently agreeing that distracting Murdock might be best before his thoughts accidentally derailed him. Stepping forward, Face pulled Murdock off the couch. “Come on guys, what’s the point of _Gaudete_ if we’re going to sit around here all night being somber? Do you two have anywhere you have to be?” 

“Nah….” Hannibal shook his head, “Though I did tell Murdock we’d make hamburgers when we get to the trailer.” 

“And have the Aquamaniac costume, with its weird eyes, staring at you while you eat?” Face scoffed, “I think not.” 

“Got a better plan that’s coming together, O Facial One?” Murdock tilted his head. 

“Of course I do.” Face grinned, “There’s a nice little bistro around the corner, they stay open late, and the waitresses are cute. Now if you guys **promise** not to get me thrown out, I’ll pick up the bill for dinner.” 

“Hey Murdock, I guess that old Christmas spirit is working. Face is **offering** to pay the bill.” Hannibal cheerfully commented, grinding the stub of his cigar out in the ashtray. 

“Hey, I **usually** pay the bills,” Face pointed out, his complaint for show more than anything else, “Since you normally just…don’t Hannibal and Murdock doesn’t have much money on him half the time.”

“Face, your idea of ‘paying the bill’ is to toss a few bills on the table and sneak out before the waitress realizes you didn’t leave enough money.” Hannibal started for the door, fully expecting the outraged squeak from the Lieutenant, followed by the sound of him following Hannibal across the room. 

“Pull that kind of stunt on a cute, hard-working lady who probably left me her phone number on the back of the receipt? I would never!” Feigning hurt, Face draped his coat over his arms and shoved his keys into his pockets. 

“Of course not on the cute ones, Face. That’s not your style…but what about the ugly ones?” 

“Hannibal!” 

Murdock grinned as he listened to the bickering travel into the hallway where Hannibal and Face would wait for him. Running his fingers quickly across the Nativity’s polished roof, Murdock leaned over to blow out the three candles. Darkness, broken only by the lights from the other buildings, claimed the room. Shoving his hands into the back pockets of his pants, Murdock admired the view for a moment. Then he strolled toward the door and the continuing sounds of the minor argument as it evolved into a debate. From the depths of his mind, a half-remembered song learned in his school days sprang up and, as he reached the door and his waiting friends, he began softly singing under his breath, “Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song notes
> 
> Hannibal's statement about "being the only hell my mama ever raised" is in reference to outlaw country singer Johnny Paycheck's 1977 hit "I'm the Only Hell (Mama Ever Raised)". 
> 
> The song Murdock sings at the end is "Rejoice in the Lord Always (and I Say Again Rejoice)", a folk-song of unknown origins but certainly appearing in hymn collections by the 1930s. A simple round, it's a popular one to teach to children choirs. I figure Murdock likely learned it during one of his previously mentioned stints in Catholic schools.


	4. The Angel's Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Team makes time during their Game Night to support Face's observances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve! I had kind of loosely intended to have Chapter 4 published earlier in the week and have Chapter 5 being posted tonight since it takes place at Midnight Mass buuuut things happen. Besides, I'm Catholic...we celebrate Christmas until Epiphany so I've technically got wiggle room. 
> 
> BA joins the cast. In acknowledgement of the fact that Mr. T is actively Christian, I think it's only appropriate that BA also has a more active view on religion himself. 
> 
> As always, thanks to LibertyKingdom for letting me bounce ideas off her, including what happens when Face and Murdock try to play Monopoly and Face and Amy engaging in active Scrabble competitions when they have time. 
> 
> As always, everything belongs to Stephen J. Cannell and Frank Lupo. I'm just borrowing a corner of their sandbox.

_And Joseph also went up to Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and linage of David, to be enrolled with Mary his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to be delivered. And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manager because there was no place for them in the inn._ Luke 2: 4-7

“I can’t **believe** you talked me into hosting a Game Night, Murdock.” Face rose his voice so the others could hear him from the kitchen, “You already talked me into having Christmas Dinner here on Wednesday and now a Game Night too?” 

“Cheer up, Face.” Hannibal called out as he lit a fresh cigar. “It’s just the curse of having the nicest place.” 

“Yeah,” Murdock opened a bag of chips and pulled a handful out. “Me and Hannibal are near-on sitting on top of each other in his trailer. We add anybody else, we’ll have to stick the Aquamanic out in the rain and he’ll wander off ‘gain!” 

“My motel ain’t lettin’ people have company right now.” BA Baracus groused, “We’ve been having **problems**.”

The way the muscleman emphasized the word made the other two raise their eyebrows. With the sleazy motels he lived in, the ‘problems’ were probably either related to drugs or prostitution. 

“Need a hand?” Hannibal glanced up at BA, eyes lighting up at the chance to tip over a cheap motel. 

“Naw.” BA shook his head, “Need to figure out the sucker who’s causin’ it first.” 

Hannibal dropped his lighter down on the table and studied the end of the cigar to make sure it had lit properly. “Well, when you figure it out, let us know.” 

BA nodded, looking up as Face came back into the living room. The con artist balanced four drinks in his hands that he expertly dealt out to his guests. A glass of milk was set next to BA’s elbow and Face placed glasses of soda for himself and Murdock on coasters. He placed a beer next to Hannibal’s lighter. “So what game are we playing?” 

“Not Monopoly!” BA announced firmly, “Last time we tried that game, you suckers made up crazy rules!” 

“And spent an hour fighting about how much Murdock’s haunted hotel should be worth, and if alien invasions on properties means the rent gets a hazard discount.” Hannibal rolled his eyes before grinning, “We could get a game of Risk done before Christmas Day.” 

“I’m not having you all camp out in my place for three days just so Hannibal can take over the world again.” Face announced firmly. “We should play Scrabble.” 

“Nope!” Murdock shook his head, “Amy taught you all her secrets and now you’re just too good at it Facey! You got Clue?”

“I haven’t seen a Clue set anywhere in here.” Face shook his head, “Besides, Clue’s too easy with four people.” He paused to think and then rubbed his chin. “How about Yahtzee? No money changing hands, no countries to conquer, no fancy word play. It’s all about the dice.” 

“Fine.” BA rumbled, “Long as Fool here don’t spend five minutes serenadin’ the dice every time he goes to play like he did last time.” 

Murdock quickly held up the three fingers of his right hand, his thumb and pinky tucked against each other, “Scouts Honor, oh Baracun One. I shall only serenade the dice for two minutes and, in honor of the season, I shall only use Christmas carols. Facey can be the timekeeper!” 

“Oh sure, and have BA come after **me** when you’re on the fifth verse of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ and show no signs of stopping?” Face took a sip from his glass as he glanced around the room, trying to remember where he had spotted the Yahtzee game while tidying up the other day. 

Hannibal fixed a peculiar look on his Lieutenant, “Face, there’re only four verses in that song.” 

“Nope!” Murdock bounced upright, “There’s really nine but people don’t sing most of ‘em! For example,” He cleared his throat and began singing in a low, clear voice, “Lo! The flock abandoned, the summoned shepherds hurry lowly to the cradle! May we too make haste with exultant gait! O come let us adore Him. O come let us adore Him. O come let us adore Hiiiiim---ooof!” A pillow to the side of his head cut Murdock off abruptly and he picked it up, glaring at BA. “Really BA? Right in the middle of my note?”

“Stop singin’ Fool!” BA growled, catching the pillow when Murdock lobbed it back at him, his swing narrowly missing the end of Hannibal’s cigar. 

“Come on, guys!” Face called out from a bookcase on the other side of the room, “Don’t wreck anything. The real owners get back right after New Years and I want this place to be in one piece!” Grabbing the Yahtzee game from its place, he returned to the table and claimed his spot on the couch, shoving in next to Murdock who almost flopped over onto Hannibal. Only BA had his own chair, enjoying some space from the antics of the others. 

Hannibal glanced around the room, eyes landing on the unlit Advent wreath on the windowsill. The first purple candle was notably shorter than the others, a product of Face’s honest attempts to light it every night. The other two also showed some signs of burning but one purple candle sat with its unburned wick standing up almost straight as if it was at attention. He supposed Face had not had time to light it yet—some undisclosed purpose had kept him out for most of the day and he came straight from his outing to Hannibal’s place. Only BA had driven himself, the distinctive black-and-red van waiting for them in the apartment’s parking lot when Face and the other two pulled up in the ‘Vette. 

Face was doling out the playing sheets and muttering something about the pencils being dull. Hannibal briefly gestured toward the window, “You got any business you need to take care of before we get started, Face?” 

Face might already have a plan for how he wanted to handle the situation but Hannibal also knew that his Lieutenant sometimes needed unspoken assurance that the Team would accept different facets of his life. If Face really was serious about wanting to re-connect with his upbringing, Hannibal wanted the younger man to know he did not have to try to squeeze it in on the side. 

Face looked up, seeing where Hannibal was indicating. “Oh…um…I’ll take care of it later.” He tapped several of the spare sheets against his fingers. He was not sure why where his abrupt hesitation came from—Murdock and Hannibal already knew about the Advent wreath and he figured one of them had told BA so it was hardly a great secret. 

Except…it was one thing to have Murdock spot the wreath and want to take part in the tradition or for Hannibal to ask about it. It was another thing entirely to pause a social evening and make his friends feel like they had to take part in his own observances. 

Hannibal shrugged and nodded, seeming to accept Face’s answer. Murdock sat up straight but before he could say anything, BA turned around to see what the other two had been talking about. When he spotted the wreath he frowned, quickly put the pieces together in his mind, and turned back to Face. “You the only sucker I know who don’t mind stealin’ in front of his friends but gets embarrassed ‘bout prayin’ in front of ‘em!” 

“I’m not embarrassed!” Face protested, dropping the game sheets back in the box. “But…it’s just…I am the only Catholic…kind of. I didn’t want to make anybody do something they didn’t want to do.” He glanced at Hannibal and BA before lowering his eyes and fixing his attention back on the scoring cards. “Don’t worry about it guys, I’ll take care of it later tonight.” 

“Face,” Murdock poked his best friend in the arm, “If this is about that whole ‘Catholics and Protestants can’t get on' thing, that’s old news! Even your Pope is saying that now!” 

“Come on Faceman.” BA stood up and moved to pull Face off the couch. “Mama always says you ain’t supposed to say prayers alone and this won’t take but a minute.” 

“Yep!” Murdock started pushing Face from the other side until the con artist was on his feet, “That’s in the Bible too! Right in one of the ‘M’ gospels: ‘For where two or three are gathered in My name, there I am in the midst of them’.” 

“That’s in Matthew, Murdock.” Hannibal pointed out, pulling out his cigar as he watched BA and Murdock maneuver Face off the couch. He studied the three younger men for a moment, focusing particularly on Face. “You okay with this, Face?” 

Face looked between his three friends, from BA’s stern but supportive stare to Murdock’s eager enthusiasm over to Hannibal’s parental concern. Then his shoulders relaxed a bit and he laughed, “I didn’t realize you guys were so worried about my prayer life.” 

“Hey Muchacho, if it matters to you then it matters to us!” Murdock slung an arm around Face’s shoulders. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t support us in lots of things.” 

“For once the Fool’s right,” BA rumbled, stepping back now that Face was on his feet. “’Anyways, gettin’ some religion ain’t gonna hurt you none. Might be good for you, actually.” 

Face flushed a bit, unsure how to respond to his friends unasked-for support. Ducking his head in a bout of uncharacteristically shyness, he cleared his throat and smiled. “Well….okay then….If you all feel like that.” 

Murdock grinned and gave Face a tiny push toward the windowsill. The Nativity still sat there, now shaded by a small, potted poinsettia the con artist had rescued from an office Christmas party he found himself at last week. Next to the plant, the box of matches waited expectantly and the ashtray held stubs that represented a weeks’ worth of prayers. 

Hannibal brought up the rear as the others followed Face to the window. Clearing his throat again, clearly still a bit shy about doing this in front of all his friends, Face shook a match out of the box and struck it against the rough texture on the side. Lighting two of the candles, he shook out the match before he could burn his fingers and struck a second one. Soon all four candles were twinkling brightly, casting a soft orange glow over the Nativity and the figures within. When he crossed himself, Murdock followed suit while Hannibal and BA quietly folded their hands in front of them. 

Face cleared his throat. Aside from Murdock, he had not really **prayed** in front of anyone since before Leslie disappeared and that felt like it had happened centuries ago. This was **now** though…not **then** …and maybe **now** would be better than **then** had ever been. 

Softly he began praying. “Let us pray. Stir up Thy might, we pray Thee, O Lord, and come; rescue us through Thy great strength so that salvation, which has been hindered by our sins, may be hastened by the grace of Thy gentle mercy. Who livest and reignest for ever and ever. Amen.”

His friends echoed the ‘amen’. Hannibal and BA relaxed their hands as Face and Murdock made the Sign of the Cross. 

BA leaned over to examine the Advent wreath now that Face had lit the candles, a smile replacing his usual scowl. This smile usually showed up whenever he was going to mention his mother. “Momma used to have one’a these but she had four red candles and a big white one in’na middle. Every Sunday we’d all get back from church and Daddy would light the right number’a candles. Momma would say some prayers and sing a hymn. Then I’d move the little Mary and Joseph figures closer to the stable.” 

“Move them?” Face tilted his head, “Didn’t you just put them in the stable and leave them?” 

“Naw.” BA straightened up, the chains around his neck clicking together as reflections from the candles danced over the gold. “We had four stops in’na living room before they got to the manager on Christmas Eve. It was my job to move them and make sure they made it to each spot safely.” 

The other three exchanged quick glances and grins. If BA as a child was anything like BA as an adult, they could all picture him taking his duties very seriously. 

“I think you would’a made a great bodyguard for Mary and Joseph, Big Guy.” Murdock announced, “Nobody for fifty klicks in any direction would want to mess with that family.” 

“You’d probably have gotten them a proper room at the inn too.” Face pointed out, “Because if I was the inn keeper and I had a guy like you demanding a room for his people, I would **find** one.” 

BA snickered at Face’s words, “I got kicked outta Sunday School once and sent to talk to the preacher about that.” His smile was becoming a grin, the good humor of the holiday affecting even his normally grumpy persona. 

Hannibal’s cigar dipped down as he finally interjected himself into the conversation, “I know all about you and the brig, BA, but how’d you get kicked out of Sunday School?” He paused and added, “Didn’t even know you **could** get kicked out of there….” The tone in his voice did not suggest shock as much as disappointment in failing a challenge simply because he did not know it existed. 

“I wanted to know why nobody gave up their room for Mary and Joseph.” BA rumbled, “Miss Patty said it was because’a prophecies. I said it was ‘cause everyone in the inn were a bunch’a fools and someone should’a given Mary a room and went in the stable themselves.” 

“That got you sent to the preacher?” Face sounded confused, “If I’d said that to Father Magill or Father O’Malley, they probably would have laughed and said I was right.” 

“BA, am I right in thinking that you probably said a bit more than just ‘someone should have given up their room’?” Hannibal’s trademark grin widened. 

BA shrugged, causing the chains to rattle a bit. “I said if I was in Bethlehem that night, I would’a thrown someone outta their room so Mary’d have her baby somewhere clean and warm.” 

“Aaaah.” Face made the sound, raising both eyebrows. “Threatening to alter Bible stories through violence probably **would** earn you a chat with the preacher.” 

“I dunno Faceman…” Murdock shrugged and slung an arm over BA’s shoulders, ignoring the customary scowl BA fixed on him, “I think the Christmas Story with BA in it would be **good**. A bit more action then the normal one and I’d have to write in some bad guys for this big ol’ Mudsucker to fight but I think we could have a blockbuster on our hands, muchachos!” 

“The only blockbuster you’re gettin’ is the block I’m gonna bust you with if you don’t get your arm off me, Murdock!” BA growled. 

Murdock ignored the threat, “I can see it now Big Guy! We can use the Mojave for Israel…I don’t think anybody’s really going to notice the difference. Face Man can get us a donkey and some sheep…maybe a couple’a camels too—“

“Where am I going to get camels in LA?” Face groaned, “It’s not like they just wander around Griffith Park, you know!” 

“Oh you’ll figure out something, Facey. You always do.” Murdock dismissed Face’s concerns with a wave of his hand, “Besides, I heard there were wild ones running around in Nevada. We can just go get them!”

“What?!” 

Hannibal’s laughter underscored Face’s indignant squawk. “I dunno Face. We made pretty good cowboys, I think. Maybe we should try our hands at rounding up some camels.” 

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation right now!” Face threw his hands in the air and turned back toward the couch as BA finally shook Murdock’s arm off with an angry grunt. “I am **not** going out and rounding up camels just so Murdock can make his own Christmas movie.” 

“Come on Face, is that any way to look at a challenge?” Hannibal snagged the ashtray off the windowsill and followed his Lieutenant back. “I mean…I know you’re getting old but I didn’t think—“ 

“Oooh no…you’re not pulling that card on me, Hannibal.” Face handed Hannibal his beer before taking his place on the couch. “Do you have **any** idea what camels do to silk suits?” 

“Come on Face!” Murdock bounded over to the couch and elbowed his way in-between Hannibal and his best friend, “You don’t wear silk suits when you’re rounding up camels! You wear cowboy clothes!” 

BA grabbed up the Yahtzee dice. Giving everyone a die, he shook his own and dropped it on the table at the same time that he settled back into his chair. “We ain’t roundin’ up camels, Fool. We playin’ Yahtzee! Now roll your dice so we can start this game, sucker!” He checked his die, “I got a three.”

Hannibal tossed his own die carelessly and his cigar tilted downward in annoyance, “One.” 

Murdock studied Hannibal’s die and then his own before, with an elaborate shrug, he shook it between his cupped hands and gently let it down on the table. “Hey, would you look at that? A five!” 

Face threw his own die with a causal flick of his wrist and sighed, “A two. That bodes well for the rest of the game. Guess that means Murdock starts.”

Murdock quickly scooped all the dice into his hands and grinned impishly at his friends. Sucking in a deep breath, he placed his mouth just above his cupped hands as he gently started shaking them. Then he began singing, “Hark the herald angels sing! Glory to the new-born---oof!” 

Still brandishing the pillow he thwacked Murdock with, Face grinned. “Time’s up Murdock! Throw your dice.” 

“That wasn’t two minutes!” Murdock grumbled but dropped the dice on the table. Sorting through what he had, he picked up where he left off, “King! Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and Sinner reconcileeeeeeed!”

BA growled as the pilot finished the note. Then Murdock looked up at his friends and smiled innocently while gesturing to his arranged dice. “Would you look at that? I already got a small straight on my first row.” 

“Fool’s luck,” BA groused. 

“It’s the serenading.” Murdock insisted as he selected the single dice that did not fit the pattern and began shaking it again. “Dice like music.” 

Leaning back in the cushions of the couch, Face smiled to himself as Murdock and BA continued arguing about Murdock’s fascination with singing to his dice. As they bickered, the pilot casually rolled the last number he needed for a larges straight and wrote the points down on his scorecard. 

While Murdock passed the dice over to Hannibal, Face’s eyes roved around the small group of people he called his family and then moved toward the wreath. The last candle to be lit represented peace. 

Hope. Faith. Joy. Peace. Four weeks, four gifts, four people. 

Hannibal muttered about the pair of ones he eked from the dice after three attempts. Then he passed the dice over to BA, who tossed them out on the table with a resounding clatter. As he watched his friends play, Face relaxed into his seat. Whatever else was happening in their lives, this moment right here was **good**. 

BA leaned over and dropped the dice right in front of him, startling Face out of his thoughts. Scooping them up, he began rattling them against his hands before rolling them out onto the table. Leaning over, he studied them, “Well, would you look at that? A Yahtzee, right on my first roll!”

As his friends all groaned, he laughed and wrote his points down in the right column. Then Murdock grabbed the dice up, swearing to match Face’s stroke of luck. A moment later, his rendition of “Angels We Have Heard on High” was struggling through the prolonged Gloria as BA growled and Hannibal laughed.

Looking around the table, Face’s smile softened with new understanding and clarity. This right here, these moments, these gifts, these people…This was the point about Advent that Fathers Maghill and O’Malley tried to help the kids understand every year. Had tried to help **him** understand every year. Taking time to prepare for Christ’s birth and soften his heart for one miracle just opened it up for all of the other, smaller miracles that happened around them every day. Miracles like the one he was enjoying now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a bit happened in this chapter so notes are a wee bit longer then usual. 
> 
> 1) "O Come All Ye Faithful" really does have nine verses. The original four are the ones most people know but in the 18th century, five more verses were added. Some verses were actually written for certain masses and, as such, are not normally sung or used in general circumstances. 
> 
> 2) Pope John Paul II served as the head of the Catholic Church from 1978 to his passing in 2005. Under his leadership, the Catholic church began building much friendlier relationships with the other branches of Christianity and other religions in general. Before these changes, Catholics and Protestants even in the US, often stayed firmly in their own lanes and often had chilly relationships with each other. 
> 
> 3) Murdock is referencing Matthew 18:20. "For where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them" (RSV Translation). 
> 
> 4) Yes, there were wild camels in Nevada--they were the product of a failed Army experiment in the mid-1800s. The military thought that camels would be better suited to conditions in the desert portions of the American West then horses. Turns out, this was not the case and, with the outbreak of the American Civil War, the project was abandoned. The camels were either sold to zoos or circuses, shifted over to working in the mines and industries prominent in the area, or turned loose. The last time wild camels were spotted was in the 1940s but it's possible they could still be out there. Under normal circumstances, the Northern Nevada town of Virginia City hosts annual Camel races in honor of this weird and little-known chapter of American history.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for Chapter 2!


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